


Ancient souls in shining armours

by ximeria



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Drift Compatibility, Humor, Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, The Drift (Pacific Rim)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 09:16:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21241730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ximeria/pseuds/ximeria
Summary: There's a new Jaeger in town - and Crowley might be in over his head.





	Ancient souls in shining armours

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Meinposhbastard for the arsekicking *g*
> 
> Because app I needed to write a human AU and make it all about Pacific Rim and drifting. 
> 
> *sighs*

Crowley hadn't meant to sneak around the Jaegers - or get in a fight. He didn't normally. He was, strictly speaking, allowed to be there as part of the engineering crew. All he'd wanted was to get a good view at the newest transferred Jaeger. He'd been buried under a mountain of work until now and hadn't had the time. What he really wanted more than anything was to have a look under her chest plate. She was huge, gorgeous. Pale greys and whites with golden-yellow signifiers. Mark IV and 50 diesel engines per muscle strand - and barely modded. For someone like Crowley, she was a wet dream. So much potential.

"Why are you up here off hours? You're not one of the assigned crew," the pilot had said, squinting into the darkness, trying to see by what little light was in the corner of the hangar, in the shadow of the Jaeger in question [1].

Crowley followed the pilot's attack pattern, the way he was trying to circle on him. Every step had Crowley countering it, always keeping out of reach. A little light bounced off the nearly white hair, pale face in the darkness drawing Crowley's attention. He adjusted his own movements to his opponent's. It wasn't lost on Crowley that the other was moving with the coiled kind of strength that would mean a world of pain if he didn't stay out of reach.

He should just clear it up, say he'd been curious and had clearance. Play it cool [2].

Unfortunately, playing it cool wasn't an option with this pilot. This one had caught Crowley's eye when he, his co-pilot and Jaeger had first transferred to the Shatterdome. Compactly built, blue eyes, white-blonde hair. Nice to everyone. Pinged all Crowley's preferences - and pinged them hard. Fucking angelic looking, goody-two-shoes and cute as hell.

Now maybe Crowley could have gotten past that little hangup if he'd been acclimatised to said pilot, but being part of Hell Division - the engineers who worked in the depths of the Shatterdome - he rarely mingled with the Heavenly Squad: the pilots. Crowley had been in one of the other shatterdomes and the whole divide hadn't been the case there, but here? Most of the angels were a bunch of wankers who thought they were too good for the rest of the base.

Well, all of them apart from the angel, here, who was currently trying to get close enough to Crowley to exact some kind of revenge for snooping around his Jaeger. He was on a completely different level compared to the other wankers. He always smiled at people, always engaged. He wasn't just an angel, he was a bloody saint who could keep a conversation going with Shadwell without looking like he'd rather be somewhere else. And he always gave people his utmost attention, always exuded positivity. The only time Crowley had seen anything to the contrary, was watching him talking to his co-pilot, Gabriel. So much tension in the angel's shoulders that Crowley had winced at the thought.

He had watched this angel often enough, from afar, because he wasn't sure how he’d react if that 1000 Watt smile was ever turned on him.

Possibly melt.

It wasn't standard procedure for engineers to be trained as hard as the pilots, but Crowley had gone through the pilot program hoping to become one someday. The funny thing about piloting a Jaeger was that one needed to be compatible with another human being - and he'd failed all the pre-tests.

It'd be a lie if he claimed it hadn't hurt, but he'd taken to tinkering with the Jaegers themselves so well that Beelzebub had snagged him right up and in the end, he might not be piloting the behemoths, but he was at least making a difference.

Even if he had to deal with Hastur and Ligur on a daily basis.

The angel threw a punch at him and Crowley, to his own surprise, deflected it almost without conscious thought. For some odd reason, Crowley was pacing him, keeping up with each attack. It was possible that his opponent was slower than the usual brawny pilots, but Crowley wasn't entirely sure. Nor was he telegraphing his moves, but to Crowley it just seemed _easy_ somehow.

Their battlefield was nearly cast in darkness; the shadows from the large looming machines made it hard to see any details as well. But it also meant that Crowley could stay fairly anonymous. Which was good, because he was having more and more trouble controlling his body's reactions to the almost-dance as he blocked every attack and every one of his in turn were pushed aside.

It was going too well, really.

At least until his opponent finally did get the upper hand and Crowley found himself on his back, held down by a body he had most certainly not been thinking about since he'd first seen him.

The pilot looked down at where he was pinning Crowley's shoulder to the cold metal floor— right at the insignia and his rank. "You're one of the main engineers!" he exclaimed. "What were you doing sneaking-"

And then Crowley panicked even more and kneed his opponent in the crotch, running for the hills, or, rather, the pits of engineering [3].

* * *

Aziraphale wheezed and pressed his hot forehead against the cold metal of the floor. He huffed and turned his head to look up at the Sword of Divinity. At least his lovely lady was the only one to witness his downfall.

Carefully stretching out, Aziraphale rolled onto his back and stared unseeingly up into the dome itself. He'd expected to take out someone possibly sabotaging a Jaeger, but instead, here he was, in pain, on the floor after the most invigorating fight he'd had in ages. And by invigorating, he meant satisfying and blood pumping - in the areas that had made that knee hurt all the more.

Aziraphale closed his eyes. He had a co-pilot, but the kind of drift compatibility that he and Gabriel had was nothing compared to what had just happened.

When he'd tested out with co-pilots, Aziraphale had mostly had trouble with the pre-drift tests. The sparring. He wasn't a physical fighter, and if he hadn't been so good in a Jaeger, he would have been just as happy to not join the program, but there he was.

He'd heard from other people that the sparring was a good way to gauge compatibility. He'd _heard_ but never experienced. Even if Gabriel and he were drift compatible, they were always just a fraction out of sync - no more than Aziraphale could adjust it while they were in a battle, but it always left him tired and drained.

The sparring he'd had with Gabriel had been acceptable, but this? Tonight?

Holy hell, that had been something else, hadn't it? 

The dull ache in his cock was only partly due to the pain of the knee that had hit it. He'd been told when he'd entered the program that some pilot pairings became couples, became physically involved, but it hadn't happened to him. And Aziraphale was quite happy that it hadn't. He could work with Gabriel, but he'd never had a hankering for touching or having sex with the other pilot.

He probably shouldn't be having these thoughts, should he? He already had a co-pilot which was more than what a lot of the other pilots in the program had. It wasn't easy to get through the whole selection process and even harder to find the right one. 

But if this was someone who was compatible with him? So much more than he and Gabriel? Did he not owe the program and their fighting chances to let someone know?

In the end he didn't, but he still had to turn in a report. And while that could have been it, Aziraphale just couldn't stop thinking about the encounter.

One thing lead to another and one late Friday night, he went searching. He'd befriended enough people to be able to get a name and a possible location.

Crowley. High praised engineer, oddball and a bit of a loner.

Taciturn, lean and sinewy from what Aziraphale had been able to feel. And that was part of what he couldn't quite get himself to forget. The body pinned under his, the almost golden eyes staring up at him, dark glasses askew, the red hair catching what little light there had been.

Miss Tracey had been most helpful. She was head of their HR department and thus worked with both pilots and engineers and any other support departments that were necessary to make something as big as a Shatterdome run smoothly.

She also seemed to know everything about everyone, and she'd most helpfully told Aziraphale that Crowley liked his late night tinkering.

So there he was, walking through the bowels of Hell, no less. It got him quite a few stares, which only made him straighten his back and walk tall through the hallways. He knew how people perceived him. He often came across as soft, and he was fine with that, but right now he had a destination and apart from offering a small smile whenever he caught someone looking, he did what his old drill sergeant had taught him. If in unknown territory, walk like you were crushing the skulls of defeated Kaiju under your bootheels. It was almost a little funny. He'd been used to mingling with the engineering crews before transfering there, so the whole ustairs/downstairs division was a bit of a stupid thing to him.

He stopped in front of the door to the lab he'd been looking for. The hallways were distinctly darker down here than the pilot sleeping quarters and the walls were covered by weird posters. They were probably funny at some point, but the humour of them had probably gone lost somewhere in the meantime. He took a deep breath and reached for the comm unit attached to the card reader.

_"Whatever it is, the answer's no,"_ came the answer.

Aziraphale stared at the comm. "I'm sorry to disturb," he said after touching the comm unit again. "I'm looking for a Mr. Crowley? I was told he was here? I'm the pilot of-" That was as far as he got before the door swung inward.

Seeing Crowley in more light was a bit of a revelation. Aziraphale rarely paid his libido any attention, mostly because it was rarely engaged enough for him to make the effort. But it was getting pinged _hard_ this time.

Tall and skinny, wearing a pair of black jeans, combat boots and a black tanktop. Azirphale swallowed hard. The tanktop didn't leave much to the imagination. The bared arms and shoulders drew Aziraphale's eyes, the fine dusting of hair that he could see peeking up from the neckline… His hair in disarray, even redder than Aziraphale had expected. He was wearing a pair of welder's goggles and an expression of surprise.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Crowley said, not sounding half as harsh as Aziraphale had expected.

And he'd been rudely staring, hadn't he? "I'm sorry," he managed to get out, "I was looking for, well, you?"

Crowley gave him a wary look, his shoulders coming up and body tensing in a defensive stance. "Look, if this is about that little misunderstanding-" Crowley began.

"Would you like to see her Conn-Pod?" Aziraphale asked before he could even consider what words to use. Oh, for goodness sake! That had to be the worst come-on he'd heard in a while. "I mean, if I could tempt- eh."

They both stared at each other for a while, then the corner of Crowley's mouth twitched and he laughed, setting Aziraphale off as well.

"Let's try that again, angel," Crowley said, turning another laugh into a cough.

"I'm sorry about startling you the other night," Aziraphale said apologetically.

"I'm sorry for sneaking around like that," Crowley said, running a hand self-consciously through his hair. "I'd love to see her Conn-Pod." There was a distinctive flush to his cheeks.

Aziraphale bit back a smile and nodded. He waited and watched as Crowley exchanged his goggles for a pair of sunglasses and took his jacket.

"Why the sunglasses - indoor?" Aziraphale asked, then backtracked. "I mean, if you don't mind me asking." Not that they weren't very fetching, but Aziraphale had caught a glance of those eyes the night they'd fought and he'd love to see if they were as lovely in the right light as they had been in the shadows of the hangar.

"I don't mind," Crowley said as he closed the door and locked it. "I've got a rare genetic anomaly. So my eyes not only freak some people out, but I'm a little sensitive to light. Makes welding a bit of a nightmare, I have to admit," Crowley said with a wry grin.

"Oh, I can imagine," Aziraphale replied and fell into step next to this conundrum of a man. Easily keeping pace with him as they made their way towards the main hangar and this time he only had eyes for his companion.

It became a habit, a lovely interlude in the day-to-day work, the training, the Kaiju attacks. They'd sometimes eat together, often have coffee together and Aziraphale was aware of the stares they were drawing.

Including those of his own co-pilot.

"I don't understand why you spend time with him, Aziraphale," Gabriel huffed as they were cooling down after a vicious round of training in the Kwoon room. Once again proving to Aziraphale that they weren't as in sync as they should have been. He had the bruises to prove it. Gabriel didn't normally pull his punches, his attacks, when training but it felt as if of late, it had gotten worse.

"I find him intelligent company," Aziraphale answered, not mentioning that it was something he lacked among the pilots. Michael and Uriel were okay, Sandalphon a bit odd, but not the worst, but Gabriel just didn't seem to have any interests outside piloting and getting commendations. "He is quite inventive when it comes to creating new tech for our Jaegers."

"You sound like you admire him," Gabriel said, making that slightly snobby sniff he always did when he found something to be below his attention.

"He more than pulls his weight around here, Gabriel, a lot of our new specs in the Divinity are thanks to him," Aziraphale said evenly, refusing to let Gabriel rile him up.

Gabriel just snorted and got up, heading for the shower, not sparing Aziraphale another look or comment. For which Aziraphale was grateful. God, but the man was full of himself sometimes.

Aziraphale took his time, wanting to give Gabriel plenty of time to finish getting dressed and _leave_ before he followed suit. Aziraphale liked Crowley's company, they _were_ intelligent conversations and Aziraphale occasionally wondered why Crowley seemed to like spending time with him as well. Because Aziraphale's interests lay in literature, or had, before he'd ended up in the Jaeger program.

However, it seemed like Crowley didn't mind letting him babble about this and that, and Aziraphale drank up the attention like a parched man in the desert.

He'd also learned that Crowley had a wicked sense of humour, one that came out once he'd apparently decided he could trust Aziraphale could be trusted. After having been saddled with Gabriel inside and outside the drift, Aziraphale could not get enough of it. If anyone could be said to have no sense of humour, it would be Gabriel [4].

Occasionally, Aziraphale would look at his new friend and wanted nothing more than to ask if he had ever considered trying the drift. If he'd perhaps try it with Aziraphale. But he already had a co-pilot and it would have to do. He couldn't just throw Crowley into something he wasn't interested in.

And things were good for a while. Lovely even.

At least until it all went to hell in a handbasket.

* * *

Crowley kept telling himself to tone it down, but it wasn't easy, not when he'd end up in Aziraphale's company most evenings, over coffee, over cake, over whatever they had access to. Occasionally even a beer or two. Though never enough to give them a buzz - one never knew when an attack might happen. Couldn't risk it.

At least he had his work to bury his repressed feelings in, and that day wasn't an exception. He'd needed it, because there'd been a breach and the Jaegers had been deployed. There was still no information coming in.

No news was good news?

It just didn't make it easier for him to not constantly think about Aziraphale. It didn't help that Hastur and Ligur were on his case about it as well. He could ask Beelzebub to do something about it, but he knew he would probably make it worse if he did. So he'd deal with it by ignoring it.

And speak of the devil and his minion. "Crowley," Hastur drawled, "boss wants to see you."

"I'll be right there," Crowley said, saving the file he was working on. It was an ongoing project, he probably would never get anywhere with it unless someone invented something completely new in fuel and propulsion engines. Or maybe he should be looking into that.

If he could someday make a Jaeger fly… Shaking his head he turned to find Hastur and Ligur still lurking at the entrance to his lab. They knew better than to just barge in. He'd made sure of that early on [5].

"Still hanging out with one of the 'wings'?" Ligur sneered when Crowley joined them in the hallway, engaging the lock to the lab.

"I need intelligent conversations sometimes, Ligur," Crowley said without too much bite.

"That doesn't explain your choice, then," Hastur snorted.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "You guys are just jealous."

"So is his co-pilot." Ligur laughed, gesturing for Hastur to follow him down the opposite way.

Crowley stared after them. Then snorted in disbelief. Why would Gabriel be jealous? He and Aziraphale were just friends, even if Crowley sometimes woke at odd hours of the night, bathed in sweat, hard and on the edge, his mind replaying their first meeting.

Always there, the memory of almost dancing, of being held down. Of being kept from flying to pieces by the firm weight and strength above him.

Crowley swallowed hard and pushed the thought away. Wouldn't do to enter the boss' office with a hardon.

And Beelzebub wasn't helping the situation either. They were about as much of an oddball as Crowley was, but Crowley kind of liked them. Most of the time anyway. This time he was handing in another project suggestions. That was why he was there, after all. Of course, it hadn't escaped Beelzebub's attention that Crowley was making friends in higher places either.

"Thank you, I do like the new specs you handed in last time, and I've sent you the budget limits." They paused, then pursed their lips. "Crowley, I know you're an adult and capable of seeing to your own safety, but I have to mention the… fraternization rules."

They weren't so much rules and regulations as general do's and don'ts. And the fraternization was mostly there for 'don't try to get between two pilots - their drift compatibility is more important than a fling.' The pilots could file for cohabitation if they were inclined that way, but Crowley was at least a little warmed by the knowledge that Aziraphale and Gabriel hadn't.

"We're not breaking any rules, boss, just spending time together." Crowley kept his voice even and normal. It wasn't something he hadn't thought about already. Everytime he felt the urge to dwell on what might be.

"I just don't want to see my most skilled engineer broken because of some wanker of a pilot," Beelzebub replied. "You tried out for that, it didn't work out, you fell into our lap instead - and I'm quite happy with that."

"I didn't fall, boss," Crowley said with a small snort. "I sauntered down the back stairs."

Beelzebub rolled their eyes and pointed at the door and Crowley, grinning more genuinely this time, shot them a sloppy salute.

Every time he thought he should maybe pull back, not for his sake, but for Aziraphale's, Crowley succumbed to his selfishness. He liked Aziraphale, they weren't doing anything wrong. He wasn't trying to get back into the Jaeger pilot program by tempting a pilot, okay? Even if said pilot had alluded to not always being happy with his co-pilot.

If this had been the first few days or weeks after Aziraphale had transferred, then maybe, just _maybe_ Crowley would have entertained that idea. But initially, after the fight, he'd just been damned glad that his own stupidity and inability to stand up and just say why he'd been there hadn't gotten him kicked out on his arse. For fuck's sake, he'd kneed the angel in the crotch.

Then Aziraphale had sought him out and had, more or less, just befriended him. A pilot and an engineer - a pilot-reject even. And Crowley had gotten to know him, with his wicked sense of humour, the twinkle in his eyes, the flush to his cheeks, the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes. Crowley felt greedy, because the more he got, the more he wanted.

He wanted to touch those crow's feet, wanted to press his lips to them. Wanted to touch the flush of those cheeks to see if they were as hot as they looked. Wanted that sparkling blue eyes on him only.

Even if it hadn't been fraternization or at least ill seen, he wouldn't rock the boat. As much as he had looked at Aziraphale and felt tempted in the beginning, he treasured their unlikely friendship too much to chance it for a few nights of pleasure.

Back in his lab, he booted up his project folder again. Crowley leaned against the console as he studied it. Only half of his attention was on the specs. His thoughts were back circling Aziraphale like a shark. He wasn't happy in his partnership with Gabriel, that much was clear. Not that it was any of Crowley's business, but he did worry, because drifting necessitated trust. And Crowley wasn't sure how much of that was to be found between the two pilots.

And he was back to his attraction to Aziraphale. He'd love nothing more than to take him away from Gabriel, who obviously didn't deserve him. He wouldn't just give Aziraphale the trust he deserved, but he could offer so much more. Those thoughts were never far from his mind. At night when he closed his eyes, in the early morning hours when he savoured his first cup of coffee before work started, in the shower…

Every time they had spent time together.

The feeling of being _right_. Right time, right place, right _person_.

His focus was broken when the alarms went off again. There'd been a breach and Sword of Divinity along with Celestial Wrath had been deployed. Crowley frowned. The alarm and code was the one he hated the most. Damaged Jaegers incoming.

Crowley carefully didn't allow himself to wonder about the pilots. Or one pilot in specific.

Then the message flashed. _All hands on deck_.

Crowley made a face, but nevertheless complied. Nothing was more important than the Jaeger maintenance and if anything was broken worse than normally, he'd be needed in the pits.

* * *

Aziraphale struggled as they held the Kaiju under the water, fist around its neck, waiting for the final death throes.

The sync of the drift fluctuated again.

He could feel Gabriel's blood thirst, his righteousness and it was interfering with the drift.

_Again._

And for once he couldn't keep it, couldn't stabilize it. As the Kaiju's final thrashing tore at the Jaeger, its alien lifesigns snuffed out, as did Aziraphale's control of the Jaeger, jarring both Gabriel and himself out of it, in a haze, fuses were blowing and cables were shaking loose and something smelled burnt. 

For an eternity, the drift was a dark wasteland to him, until he came to, the Jaeger having jerked to a halt and Gabriel yelling at him, face red, anger evident.

"What the hell, Aziraphale, why did you drag us out of the drift?" Gabriel was livid. "You're too fucking slow, old man."

Aziraphale blinked slowly, trying to figure out what was reality and what was an echo of the drift. And Gabriel's voice was like an annoying fly that just wouldn't go away. The annoying buzzing became a pained noise and Gabriel demanded they get picked up over the comm. Then he carried on whining about his, apparently, broken wrist.

Aziraphale stopped listening. His mind was still sluggish, his arm hurt from above the elbow to the wrist, and as he looked down at it, he noticed parts of the armour was torn off, jagged edge framing burned skin and blood.

He let the harness take his weight as he focused on the read-outs. The Kaiju was dead. He drew a deep breath and felt himself drift in and out of consciousness. While these drifts with Gabriel always left him feeling drained, this one had been a doozy. He _was_ out of the drift, but it was as if it kept pulling him back, gently.

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to open his eyes and focus. "Do you need first aid?" he asked Gabriel.

"Don't… talk to me right now," Gabriel said icily.

Oh brilliant, Gabriel was in a tissy.

Getting airlifted back into the Shatterdome was a long, quiet trip. They were both moved into the helicopters and initial first aid was administered. Had anyone asked Aziraphale afterwards how that trip had been, he'd have little recollection of it.

He was far too busy being caught up in the thoughts that this would be his final deployment, because if they asked him again, he was not going out with Gabriel as his co-pilot. They'd been lucky this time, they might not be the next.

Aziraphale stared down at his hand. The white bandage shone almost unnaturally under the artificial lights in the front office of their General. He'd already been in once, and was now waiting for her decision.

Gabriel had long since stomped off, hand in a cream coloured cast and mind in a foul mood.

Aziraphale tried not to feel the anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He knew Gabriel didn't like him much, there was little you could hide in the drift. But that he'd blame this fuckup on Aziraphale when it had been his own doing…

Bugger, but he was so tired, so drained. Keeping the drift stable was getting harder and harder for him to do. And because he'd stupidly been loyal to Gabriel for the sake of keeping Sword of Divinity online, he'd never brought the issue up with a superior even before the transfer had gone through and they'd been stationed here.

That error was on Aziraphale's shoulders. He'd screwed that one up by keeping quiet, hadn't he?

"Hey."

Aziraphale looked up and couldn't help but smile. "I thought you'd be knee deep in our mess by now."

Crowley grinned. "I have minions for that, angel." He frowned when he looked at Aziraphale's arm. "You alright?"

Aziraphale nodded. "It's just a superficial burn - the meds are doing their job as we speak."

Crowley knelt by his chair and met his gaze. "I meant inside your head, silly. Rumour has it your drift broke."

"Ah," Aziraphale said, unsure what to say. He couldn't very well say what was first on his mind. That if it had been Crowley with him that wouldn't have happened. He was angry with Gabriel, it didn't mean he could demand someone else take his place, least of all someone who hadn't been trained to do so.

"Gabriel's busy throwing a fit somewhere," Crowley continued. "I thought perhaps I'd get your version."

Aziraphale felt his face heat. How did Crowley do this? His attention often left Aziraphale feeling untethered - though not necessarily in a bad way. "Maybe later, when I'm done with-" he nodded at the General's door.

Crowley's eyes narrowed. "And you've rested."

"And I've rested," Aziraphale agreed readily, feeling warm and cozy for Crowley apparently feeling the needed the lecture.

"See that you do," Crowley said, small grin on his face. "Sorry, gotta run - I can only let the minions do the dirty work for so long."

"Go," Aziraphale said, "and sorry for breaking things."

"Nah, seen worse," Crowley promised, standing up and waving as he left Aziraphale on his own again.

Aziraphale enjoyed the view for a moment, then shook his head, face heating again. Goodness, was he not too old for this kind of lust?

Far too fast, he was called into the office and asked to sit down. At least he felt he had his body's more primal reactions under control again. The General was sitting in her high backed chair, turned enough that Aziraphale couldn't see her face. Her quiet strength was a beacon in the centre of an otherwise drab concrete room; grey walls, grey floors, screens on the wall feeding her constant information.

"Tell me something," the General said, voice soft but with a layer of steel underneath. "If you were to describe your drifts with Gabriel, how would you word it?"

Aziraphale swallowed hard. This was it, wasn't it? If he was honest, he'd be seen as disloyal to his co-pilot, he'd be seen as pushing blame away from himself. One way or another, he was probably never going to be allowed inside the Conn-Pod of Divinity again.

"Aziraphale, know this - there is no right or wrong answer, only the truth." Her voice gave nothing away.

"They are… not as easy as I've heard others describe theirs," Aziraphale tried, not quite a lie, but not entirely the truth either. It was, however, a hell of an understatement.

"Know this," the General said quietly. "I've piloted a Jaeger and I know how important a stable and intuitive drift is."

"It's not… easy," Aziraphale repeated. "I feel we have to work hard to keep it stable, and it takes away from our reaction time, clouds intuition as well [6]."

"So it is like I thought," she said quietly. "It's not quite a full compatibility. How did you get as far as being issued a Jaeger?" she asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"Never underestimate Gabriel's ambition," Aziraphale said, before he could stop himself. "I mean, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that. I'm just… a little tired, sore." He hadn't meant to put Gabriel in a bad light. Be disloyal.

"And he is the only one you've tested compatible with," she said, flipping through what was probably his service records.

"Ye-es," Aziraphale said.

There was a shift in the air and he knew that he was being scrutinized to within an inch of his life.

"Aziraphale?" How did she manage to make her voice sound like the almighty chastising a lowly minion from on high?

"I… had a run-in with someone late one night," he admitted. "I filed a report. It was a misunderstanding, I've since spoken with the man." In for a penny in for a pound. "He's an engineer, but he was better at fighting than I'd have expected."

"And you mention this, because?" she asked.

"The…" Aziraphale felt odd telling her this, like he was sharing some illicit secret that wasn't his alone to share. "I may have startled him and he fought back, and it was not unlike what we do in the Kwoon room for testing compatibility. I realise, even if he's not a pilot, that-" He trailed off.

"Spit it out," she told him, a smidgen of humour lacing her voice.

Aziraphale hadn't dealt with her often since the transfer, but it always felt as if she was in on a joke no one else was.

"I've never been in a sparring session where it felt so natural, like I knew what he was going to do the moment he did it, and he blocked my attacks perfectly." 

He was unsure how to share just how much more it had felt like a drift than anything he'd experienced before. Even inside a drift. Crowley had felt so natural to him, and that had been before he'd gotten to know him!

"I see," she said. "We'll see where this leaves us, but for now, both you and Gabriel need to heal before you're allowed back into the Jaeger." She hesitated. "I take it it's Mr. Crowley we're talking about."

Aziraphale nodded. 

"Then you should know that he originally signed up as a pilot, but was never found to be compatible with anyone," she told him.

"Me," Aziraphale said before he could stop himself. "I'm sorry."

"Possibly you and he are drift compatible - we could call him in for a test," she offered.

"I… would it be alright if I spoke to him first? He can be a bit tetchy." Aziraphale wasn't sure how Crowley might react to something like this.

"Don't wait too long, Aziraphale," the General said. "You do need to mend, but we cannot do without the Divinity." 

Aziraphale nodded and stood. He knew a 'dismissed' when he heard one.

* * *

Crowley just stared at him. His coffee was growing cold, but he could not take his eyes away from Aziraphale's hopeful face.

"I don't think it would be a good idea," he tried to argue. "I've never been able to keep a drift with anyone."

"I'm not going to push," Aziraphale promised, but even if he wasn't, his damned, perfect blue eyes were. "I mean, the Divinity is still being repaired and we're grounded for now."

"Gabriel," Crowley began, feeling his thin defenses wavering.

"Gabriel is in no state to pilot, his wrist is broken," Aziraphale said, shaking his head. "I wish I didn't have to ask, but I genuinely think we're compatible, Crowley."

"You've known me for all of a few weeks, angel," Crowley said, trying to lace his voice with sarcasm, but coming out far too earnestly.

"I've known you long enough to see that there is something in our interactions that outdoes anything I've ever had with Gabriel, or any other pilot I've been tested with." Aziraphale shook his head. "No, I promised I wouldn't push."

"But we need as many Jaegers as possible," Crowley finished for him. He knew this, he wanted nothing more than to say yes, because that dream had never left him, he'd never entirely given up on it, even if he kept saying he had. Just a little bit of him was still clinging to it.

So he caved and he'd be damned, if the bright look on Aziraphale's face wasn't worth it. It was, it was, and he kept telling himself that all the way through the initial neural handshake.

Because of course the course of a good drift did not run smooth.

Crowley had never successfully managed to drift, so he wasn't entirely sure what to expect. The neural handshake was initiated and the drift opened like a gaping maw under him. For a moment it felt like flying. Like freedom. Then he wavered. They were in here together, Aziraphale and him. They'd know each other to the fullest. There were no secrets. Aziraphale would know that Crowley wanted him and he'd be judged. The connection wavered in the face of his momentary worry - and something tried to stabilize him.

Crowley did what he always did when someone tried to touch him uninvited. He flinched away, went sideways instead of forward and everything tilted.

The flight became a fall, the freedom a prison.

_"Not suitable for the pilot program. Not suitable for the drift, has trust issues."_

Every little note in his file tore at him. Not good enough. Never good enough for Heaven, but welcomed by Hell.

The fall turned to fire and brimstone. Fire and smoke billowed around him, the city was burning, the building he lived in was levelled to the ground. The people he knew were buried under the rubble. Pain tore through him and Crowley wanted to turn his face to the skies and rage, cry, beg.

A memory, just a memory. But as all memories in the drift, lethal in its truth. 

Children huddled together in the shelter as the Kaiju laid waste to the city above. He had to be the strong one, the sure one, the protector. Keep them quiet, keep them still.

Aziraphale, angel, pilot, so pretty, so sweet, so _nice_. Speaking to him, laughing with him and listening to him. Giving him his attention.

The rubble of the building he'd used to live in, levelled to the ground with no soul left to mourn it but him.

He'd been spared, for some reason. The reject, the wannabe-pilot. 

Put his brains to good use if he couldn't fight - he could help make the machines. He was good with machines. Dead things that couldn't love him back, or reject him.

He'd been spared, but he hadn't earned it. Not yet, probably never would and it burned, this fall, didn't it? Ripped his heart out of his chest and charred it, broke it into little pieces.

_"I shouldn't have tried to fly on borrowed wings, I should have stayed in the pit."_

_"I'm sorry, angel, I loved you from the start but I'm not strong enough for you to love me back."_

* * *

Aziraphale took a deep breath. He'd reacted instinctively like he normally did when Gabriel wavered - he'd stepped in to right it, to strengthen the drift. Unfortunately, Crowley had reacted very differently from Gabriel.

Well, it had been why Aziraphale had wanted to test their drift compatibility. And he'd been the idiot to react like he wasn't supposed to and Crowley had chased the rabbit [7].

He'd been dragged along in Crowley's memories, unable to stop them, unable to comfort him. He’d been a passenger along for the ride, seeing the pain and memories, the anger and rage. No one in the Jaeger program had a clear past. They'd all lost someone in the attacks and he knew now that Crowley struggled with much of the same that he did. He owed Crowley an apology and a lot of groveling. And if Crowley ever deigned to try the test again, Aziraphale swore he'd elevate him to sainthood. Or kiss him. Because he'd seen it in the drift. Crowley's feelings for him - it wasn't that he hadn't thought they might eventually address whatever was between them, but a drift hid nothing, it was brutally honest in its reveals.

Aziraphale went in search of Crowley. The least he could do was start with the apology and then he'd have to assure Crowley that he was more than enough. He was exactly what Aziraphale wanted and _needed_. It just didn't come about quite like he'd imagined it.

About to turn a corner, Aziraphale slowed and stopped. He could hear voices up ahead. One of them was most certainly Gabriel, and the other was achingly familiar as well, tugging at something in his chest and making it feel as if it was covered in the sweetest honey.

"A fallen soldier, washed up - never managed to get a Jaeger, did you? So now you're just a mechanic. What a swan dive from grace."

Aziraphale clenched his hand into a fist. Why did Gabriel have to be such an arse?

He leaned forward enough to look around the corner. His mouth went dry as he watched Crowley, casually standing in the middle of the hallways, hand on hip and looking like he was ready to take on the whole world.

If he'd wanted to slug Gabriel before, it was nothing compared to how he was feeling now. How dared he speak like that to Crowley?

"Keep telling yourself that, you overgrown twat. Do you think your Jaeger just miraculously heals itself when you break it?" Crowley asked, voice tight and laced with sarcasm.

Gabriel snorted. "Whatever. But I'm not surprised you couldn't drift with the little wallflower. He's got a cute arse, but he's not really worth the effort. Bit on the slow side that one."

Aziraphale stepped forward, just in time to see Crowley pull back his arm and, fast as a snake would strike, attacked. His fist connected with Gabriel's square jaw, the most satisfying sound of bone against bone breaking the moment. Aziraphale just stared in awe more than anything else.

"Go drift off a fucking cliff, you arsewipe," Crowley sneered, fists held tightly at his side.

Gabriel, sitting on his arse, caught sight of Aziraphale. "See what you're dealing with? You'd rather give him the chance to pilot a Jaeger than me?"

So much pride in that man, so much stupidity. So much selfishness. What they were doing was for the sake of mankind, to keep it safe - not to prove whose gang was better.

Aziraphale cleared his throat and something flared and burned brightly in his chest. "Shut up, Gabriel… just, shut up. If he hadn't decked you, I would have."

Stepping around Gabriel, Aziraphale carefully took Crowley's wrist, keeping eye contact all the while to make sure it was alright. Crowley on the other hand, looked a little dazed, but he never took his eyes off Aziraphale. And he followed along amiably as Aziraphale lead him through the hallways to his own quarters.

They needed privacy right now, they needed to talk.

Even if Aziraphale wanted nothing more than to stop right there in the hallway and kiss Crowley's reddened knuckles. But he couldn't, and he most certainly shouldn't. This was a tango and it would take two people to get the steps right.

Aziraphale led Crowley inside the small bunk room that was his and sat him down on the bed. The other man hadn't said anything since he'd gone off on Gabriel and Aziraphale finally dared look at him, watching him watch the hold Aziraphale had on his hand, and the small grin on his face.

"Erm," Aziraphale managed. He could let go, but… he didn't really want to. So he pulled his chair over with one hand and sat down in front of Crowley to be at eye level. He'd considered for a moment sitting down next to him on the bunk, but he wasn't entirely sure that he had that much self control.

He needed to be the professional one in this situation. Even if he still wanted to kiss Crowley. They'd drifted, hadn't they? Even if only for a moment. There was a deeper knowing of each other there, if he could find the right knots to untie.

Crowley eyed him and frowned. "I'm not fragile," he said, a little petulantly. "And… I'm sorry I messed up."

"You didn't," Aziraphale said, wanting to shake him.

"Not sorry about decking Gabriel though," Crowley added, a smirk tugging at that maddening mouth of his.

And Aziraphale just couldn't help himself. He let go of Crowley's wrist and put his hands on Crowley's cheeks, holding him still long enough to press his lips to Crowley's.

He'd meant to let go right away, but Crowley obviously had other ideas. He made a strangled noise in his throat, wound his arms around Aziraphale's shoulders and pulled him onto the bunk, on top. Then he writhed underneath Aziraphale to the point where Aziraphale feverishly wondered if this was what it was like to be hugged by a boa constrictor.

It was a marvelous feeling.

* * *

Crowley couldn't believe it. He'd started out feeling like shite all day because of that bloody drift and the failure, another one on his list of failures. And then the stupid bastard Gabriel had stopped him in an empty hallway. And he'd hit him! Because the rat bastard had insulted Aziraphale.

And here he was, being in the place he hadn't known he'd wanted to be. Underneath Aziraphale's weight, grounding him, grinding against him, shoving his thigh between the angel's and gasping into the kiss.

He was never going to let go. It would not be fair if he could taste this and never have it again. Greedy, he knew he was greedy, but he didn't care. He shoved his hands up under Aziraphale's t-shirt. So much heat, so much skin.

It shouldn't have been possible without falling off the narrow bunk, but they fought to be on top, to be underneath, like a constantly shifting mass of a single celled creature. Most certainly a single minded creature.

It wasn't that Crowley hadn't had sex before, but it had been nothing like this. The push and pull, give and take. Aziraphale's hands digging under his waistband and strong fingers digging into his skinny arse and apparently enjoying it.

Crowley most certain was enjoying the steel like grip. The thought of being able to feel this the next time he was sitting down was his undoing. Arching up against Aziraphale, swallowing his moans, forcing his own groans into his angel's mouth in return.

Crying out, their kissing messy and open mouthed, Crowley held onto Aziraphale while they shook apart. Was held in turn, in an embrace that promised safety and support, understanding and love.

"Maybe this is what was missing when we tried to drift," Aziraphale murmured against his damp temple.

Crowley shifted a little. It was going to get uncomfortable at some point, but he didn't want to let go of Aziraphale, and he most certainly didn't want Aziraphale to let go of him. Any time soon. "The sex?" he asked curiously. Although he'd love to get rid of the clothes and repeat this naked. That would take care of the discomfort as well.

"I've been so used to having to control the drifts when in truth it should always be a two-way street." Aziraphale rubbed his hand up and down the small of Crowley's back, underneath his shirt.

Crowley wanted to ask him to never stop, feeling like his spine was liquifying. "Takes two to tango," he mumbled against Aziraphale's neck where his face was currently buried. He was feeling sleepy and safe.

"Yes, indeed, though I do have to warn you, I am not a particularly good dance, so I may step on your toes," Aziraphale chuckled.

Crowley enjoyed the rumble of that chuckle under his hand where he was currently pressing it flat against Aziraphale's ribs.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale tensed a little under him, but otherwise stayed where he was. "What set you off?"

Crowley was silent for a moment, unsure what to say, where to begin. He knew that Aziraphale had seen everything. It was in the nature of the drift. "I panicked… for various reasons - I think I also realised that you'd know that I wanted you, was in love with you."

"I think that cat's out of the bag," Aziraphale said dryly.

"Ah, yeah," Crowley agreed, rubbing his nose against Aziraphale's neck.

"I don't know how to ask for this, but Crowley, would you consider drifting again?" Aziraphale asked.

"With you?" Crowley asked, eyes narrowing. He wasn't considering anyone else, but he wanted to hear it.

There was a sharp intake of breath. "You are not drifting with anyone else," he said, voice low and insistent.

Crowley swallowed hard, feeling his body desperately trying to cut his refractory period in half. He focused on the arms around him, rubbed the pads of his fingers over the electrical burn scars from the last accident. They'd heal, but they'd always be there like something out of Tron.

"Angel, please, you're killing me, yes, of course," Crowley bit out, feeling his heart grow impossibly. "But what if-?"

"Like we just did," Aziraphale interrupted him. "In perfect sync." He kept petting Crowley's lower back, but by now he was bringing the blunt edges of his nails into play as well and perhaps halfing his refractory period wasn't entirely impossible.

"What, you want to have sex in the drift?" Crowley teased.

"It's not so different, really." Aziraphale shifted, half hard again against Crowley's thigh.

Crowley hesitated. "Did you and Gabriel ever-?"

Aziraphale grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head up.

Crowley tried not to laugh at the absolutely insulted look he was met with. "I'm sorry! But non-pilots do wonder about these things - there are rumours you know."

"I do have standards," Aziraphale said with a huff. His hand in Crowley's hair went from gripping to petting, and the one still resting on Crowley's lower back slid lower to cup Crowley's arse.

"Good to know," Crowley murmured, his refractory period definitely shorter than normally. He was never going to let this angelic being get away.

* * *

"Neural handshake initiated."

This time Crowley was ready. He still felt the flutter of worry in his chest, but he was safe. This was their second drift test, or as Aziraphale had said, their first real one, where they were on equal footing. Where they knew what they were taking into the drift.

Crowley was glad that Aziraphale knew how deeply he felt about him. How much he wanted him, had for a while (say, sometime around two minutes after spotting him when Sword of Divinity had arrived at the Shatterdome).

Funny how Crowley had always yearned for this, the chance to pilot a Jaeger. Funny how he'd failed to realise that in doing so, he'd have to let someone else know him completely.

And he'd know someone else just as well.

_'Oh, lovely, that's why you call me angel.'_ Aziraphale's voice was full of laughter and awe, tickling like champagne bubbles. _'I'm flattered, darling, but I'm too much of a bastard to be considered angelic._

_'Not to me, angel, I want my angel with a sharp edge.'_

_'We're changing the name of this Jaeger, angel, I swear.'_ Gabriel had chosen the name, mangled the one Aziraphale would have preferred [8]. It did not sit well with Crowley.

_'You don't have to.'_ So very soft, so very loving.

_'You deserve it, angel, don't argue with me.'_

_'How can this be when we've known each other for such a short time?'_

_'Angel, I've been waiting for you for a lifetime.'_

_'You make me blush, darling.'_

_'Good, I know intimately how far that blush spreads.'_ Crowley caught the flash of Aziraphale's knowledge of just how far Crowley would blush in the heat of sex. _'Angel! Such lascivious thoughts. Later.'_

_'Wicked, wicked man,'_ Aziraphale whispered inside him. _'Please carry on.'_

And somewhere outside, on the other side of the glass, where measurements were being taken, where eyes were being kept on their drift status, the machines made an almighty racket and fuses popped. Screens flickered and bled static and the core of the Heart of Divinity had never burned brighter.

* * *

1 Aziraphale was rather protective of his Jaeger so one couldn't really blame him for wondering why someone would be getting that close without having official business there. Strictly speaking he wasn't supposed to be there either, but it beat hanging out with the other pilots who tended to be a bit full of themselves.Return to text

2 One could say many things about Crowley, but cool wouldn't be one of them.  
  
And maybe if it had been any other pilot, and not the only one to ever leave Crowley tongue tied, he'd have managed just fine.Return to text

3 No one who knew Crowley would be surprised by these events. If there ever was a Hell Division member who was capable of tripping up his own plans, it would be him. Hastur and Ligur might be contenders to this questionable title, but Crowley had a habit of shooting himself in the foot whenever it was something he wanted, coveted.  
  
Hastur and Ligur were just occasional idiots whose pranks would backfire (most often when said pranks were aimed at Crowley).Return to text

4Actually, Gabriel would beg to differ. He felt had had a marvelous sense of humour. The best kind, the satirical kind. Not to be confused with 'satire [that] is meant to ridicule power', to use Sir Terry's words. "If you are laughing at people who are hurting, it's not satire, it's bullying."Return to text

5At heart, Crowley was a prankster, but he was also very protective of his domain. After he'd felt he'd complained enough about other people messing with/borrowing/BREAKING his stuff, he'd taken to creating elaborate booby-traps in order to defend his castle. The less said about the ones Hastur and Ligur had triggered the better.Return to text

6It wouldn't be a surprise to anyone to know that the one serving as glue in that drift was Aziraphale, because Gabriel felt his skills were better utilized in the actual battle.Return to text

7Or rather R.A.B.I.T.: Random Access Brain Impulse Triggers, are an occurrence wherein one of the pilots latches onto a memory. A pilot can become trapped in a memory they latch onto regardless of who the memory belongs to; themselves or their co-pilot.Return to text

8Aziraphale had always been partial to Heart of Divinity. Good thing Crowley had connections all over the Division of Hell and knew just the person for that paint job.  
  
He also had ideas for additions, some crazier than others. Not to mention, he wondered how Aziraphale might feel about scales.Return to text


End file.
